Yègellé Tezeta - My Own Memory
by zustatek
Summary: In which dreams become reality and reality becomes a dream. See the author's note in chapter 1 for a slightly more detailed description; this story will be a long one. Clopin, Frollo & Quasi are tagged as in my mind they are the centerpieces in canon and fanfic alike – assume nothing, question everything. Projected updates each Wednesday.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** This is my journey in the world of sci-fi level dream technology, and the impact that powerful dreams have on the human psyche. Most of the story events will be going along with the original plotline, with reasonable leeway given the self-insert in THoND. This will be as the original story – of intrigue, passion, and adventure – but also calling into question whether the world is truly black and white, or if we are forever surrounded in different hues of gray. Rated T for swearing, rating may change depending on development.

**CHAPTER 1**

"… and that finishes up my analysis on The Dream-State: Current Technology and Applications. Thank you all for coming. If you have any questions, please feel free to see me at the reception."

As the lights in the crowded lecture room brightened and back doors opened, the previously hushed whispers of the audience grew to a casual din of conversation while people headed towards the exit, eager for the tasty treats awaiting them. Not many paid attention to the woman walking against the flow of the crowd towards the stage, though her appearance was in clear contrast to the dresses and suits that adorned the other guests.

With her bare feet, sweatpants, loose long-sleeved shirt, and buzzed hair, Claire weaved in and out of people until she made her way to the stage, her soft-blue eyes ever reflecting an undercurrent of bubbling fascination and curiosity.

"Oh Captain, my Captain!" Finally at the podium, Claire roughly patted her friend on the back then chuckled as his glasses went askew. "Another great speech by future Nobel Prize winner, Brian Casey!"

Brian exhaled his frustration flashing across his face. Adjusting his glasses and running a hand through his curly brown hair, he muttered, "I'd feel better about the whole thing if I didn't think half of the audience was asleep before I got past my abstract. I mean, hell, I rented a suit for _**this**_?"

After giving him a quick once-over, Claire nodded sympathetically and added, "Ah, but that makes it easier for you to test your theories! Quick, let's talk to some of the guests that have marks on their forehead from falling asleep on the chair in front of them, or the ones who are rubbing sleep out of their eyes. Maybe you'll stumble upon some new information for that project that you haven't told me about, and in appreciation of my marvelous idea, you will finally spill the beans."

Claire batted her eyelashes, feigning innocence, but it felt and looked so ridiculous that they both let out a burst of laughter at the failed attempt. Wiping a stray tear from his eyes, Brian shook his head. "You know I'm not allowed to tell you… yet. Soon, though. I promise. We're almost done. Man, Claire, you'll be so excited. The implications of the device, what it'll mean for understanding the human mind…"

"AHA! So it's a device, eh? Haha, I'll get the truth out of you yet!" Seeing his mouth 'pop' open and sensing a freak-out to come from her friend, Claire gave him a quick push to get him down the stairs, grabbed his hand, and pulled him along. "Come on, I'd have figured it out anyway, let's go get some snacks before smoke comes out of your ears."

Two Weeks Later

Outside Claire's apartment a gentle breeze rustled through the trees, the whisper of the leaves drifted through her open window and tickled her ears. Sprawled out and with half the blanket twisted around, she gently snored while dreaming of fantastic worlds caught in a powerful but fleeting state of existence, never to be seen again.

It was in the midst of a particularly powerful dream that Claire was awoken by the harsh buzz of her phone. "Ugh… I need to put that damn thing on 'silent' when I go to sleep." Rubbing sleep out of her eyes, she squinted at the bright screen. "Brian… goddammit, you know I have an early morning lab! What is it?"

"Claire! I'm sorry it's late, it's just… no, I can't do it justice over the phone. Quick, head over to the Human Studies building. I'll meet you at the front in 15 minutes."

Claire stared at the phone for a second, her brain still processing what happened. Then with a quick scramble she untangled herself from the blanket, threw on some clothes, and checked her watch. "What an ass… that's a 20 minute walk! Ugh." She jumped up and down a few times to get her blood pumping and then briskly jogged to the university.

13 minutes later, lungs heaving and face flushed, Claire plopped down in front of the Human Studies building. "Figures he'd be late… damn. I'm starting to get out of shape. Less Oreos, more cardio. Heh, that rhymed."

"Claire!"

Through the dimly lit hall she saw Brian hustling over to her. _I bet he thinks it only takes 15 minutes to walk – hell, he could make it here in 7 minutes! Stupid twig._ "What's so important that you had to call me at 2 o'clock in the morning and have me run all this way to see? You know I –"

A closer look at Brian shut Claire up. His hazel eyes shone with excitement, his lips were turned in a quirky grin, as if he was so happy he forgot how to smile properly, and he couldn't stop moving. "Claire, the device is ready! Years of work, begging for grants and our department has completed its greatest work yet. I wanted to show you before the news gets out tomorrow. I had to wait for everyone else to leave before I could tell you to come, and Tim was the last one to go a few minutes ago. Come on, come on!"

He pulled her up and started dragging her towards one of the secured-access labs. "Just a sec, there are a couple of codes." He fiddled with the encrypted lock, entered in his PIN, and then sheepishly turned around. "Um, hey, could you plug your ears for a second? Gotta do my voice recognition pass code."

Claire crossed her arms and shrugged. "It shouldn't matter if I know what your code is; in case you just joined us, you have a deeper voice than I do."

"Yeah, but, just in case, I don't want to get in trouble…" noting the skeptical look in her eye, Brian rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine, but don't laugh." The voice prompter crackled slightly as he whispered quietly as possible, "Barefoot Claire." A curse tumbled out of his mouth at the giggle from the woman behind him, and he was grateful for the small mercy that the shadows hid the slight flush on his face.

When the door clicked open Claire nudged her friend to keep going. "Come on, we can discuss your foot fetishes later – I want to see what you've been up to!"

With a dramatic flourish of his hand, Brian guided Claire through the door and turned on the lights. For a few moments Claire just stood and stared, not knowing how to react. In the center of the room was a machine. It had what looked like a stainless steel table, the kind used for autopsies. Attached to the table and curving slightly over it was a casing shaped like a generic human body, with gel pads inserted inside.

"Brian… what _is_ this? What does it _do_?" She ran a finger over the table, tracing around it till she placed her hand on the gel, which started molding perfectly around her hand.

"This is the next step of understanding the mind, and the power of dreams. You are familiar with the concept of lucid dreaming, right?"

"I think we've been friends long enough that you've mentioned it once, twice, maybe 87 times…"

"You're _so_ funny Claire. Seriously, though! Come over here and take a look." Brian pulled up a couple of figures on a display screen, his fingers flying across the keyboard to open up a matrix of images of the brain and various calculations. "The electromagnetic signatures generated from the machine stimulate the brain stem, which then excites different areas of the prefrontal cortex that heretofore were typically 'shut-off' during the REM state, or dream-state. This in turn leads to-"

"Brian? Biomed major here. I get the gist of what you're saying, but what's the overall effect?" Claire leaned over his shoulder, a critical and inquisitive gleam in her eyes as she scanned the various spreadsheets and documents on the screen.

"Essentially: we are becoming masters of the dream-state. What we dream becomes as reality; we smell, we taste, we interact fully in our dreams. There's one side-effect we've detected, though – our interactions with the objects and people. The pre-frontal cortex helps the brain interpret the dream as reality, which allows for the full-body experience; however, as such we interact with the dream objects and people as if they were real, with their own independent behaviors. We are not omniscient or omnipotent. We're still studying the effects that has on someone dreaming and how we can change it to be able to better alter the 'reality' of our dreams." Brian turned from the screen to study Claire's face. Her eyebrows furrowed close together in a pensive stare. "I take it you have questions, then?"

Claire ran a hand over her fuzzy head and scratched the back of her neck, humming. "Well, shit. Where do I start? Hmm. How does the dream initiate, if the person is for all intents and purposes, mentally awake? Wouldn't they be incapable of activating a dream-state? And what about the amount of time they're in REM stage of sleep? Does the machine monitor that and shut off accordingly, or does it keep them in suspense till they wake? I assume it monitors the brainwaves and heart rate, etc., of the subject."

"Hah, good questions. The person falls asleep with assistance, and only after they are asleep does the machine activate. The timing must be right, though, based on the person's normal sleep cycle. What a person dreams about is controlled by some brief mental exercises before we 'put them under.' As to your other questions… the machine is supposed to monitor the subject's brain waves to determine what time to stop emitting the signals." He moved away from the computer and walked over to the machine. After he pressed a couple of buttons, a faint glow emanated from the gel pads. "This is the machine's dormant state, where it's set to envelop the body – the gel has a special secretion that makes it more oxygen-rich, so breathing will not be affected. It emits low-wave signals to the brain, which can sometimes help the body reach the REM state more quickly."

Claire looked at Brian, then at the machine, hopped on the machine table, and scootched back a bit to lie down. "Ok, I'm ready!"

After a second or two of determining whether this was a serious request, Brian walked over to the table, put his hands down, and leaned over to give her the sternest glare he could muster. "Claire… you know you can't. I don't care what kind of cute faces you can make, or what logical arguments you can concoct to support the idea that it's ok for you to try this. The machine's finished, but we're still in the baby steps of understanding how this works! It's probably not dangerous, but we don't know all the side-effects on the mind from experiencing an enhanced dream-state."

The next few moments were spent with Claire making as many pouty and sad faces she knew of, until she huffed and slumped down from the 'bed.' "Brian, I'm aware of potential risks. But come _on_, you woke me up early to see this and won't even let me try it? Not even for a little bit? It doesn't take _too_ long for me to enter REM sleep, and we both know it's a short period." A little smirk on her face, she stepped closer and let her fingers dance up his chest to tap him on the nose. "I'll owe you. Anything you want, just let me try it out for a little bit. Pleeeeeeeaaaaaaassssseeeee."

"Claire…" Pinching the bridge of his nose and acknowledging he would never win this battle, Brian nodded. "Alright. But remember this day – you owe me BIG time. I'll discuss your 'payment' later. And as soon as you're out of REM, you're coming out of that machine faster than you can say sleep spindle."

Claire clapped her hands and squealed like a little kid getting candy, and gave Brian a quick kiss on the cheek before hopping back onto the machine bed. "You're the BEST! Ok, let's get started. Woo!"

"Hang on, it's not that easy. There are some procedures to take care of first. While I get that prepped, you prep yourself mentally. Do that hippie meditation stuff you love, focus on the general concepts of the dream you want to have, and relax." Brian walked over to one of the monitors, and then turned back around. "Claire, please try to make it a SAFE dream. Wander through an open field or something, nothing too dramatic. Like I said, this is a new development – I don't want you to get hurt. If that's even possible."

"Keep it safe. Got it. Now go, go, go, get started on your bit, I know what to do." Claire hummed quietly as she began to clear her mind, letting thoughts come and go freely as she escaped the pulls of the world. _I'll keep it safe enough, but it still has to be interesting… I don't want to fall asleep from boredom in a dream while I'm asleep here. __**THAT**__ would be pathetic. What if I went with a famous story? Can't just be a book, need a movie-form to get the images right – at least for my first time. I'm no artist, and my brain might screw up the descriptions. Hm. This would help if I watched more movies. Oh, what about a Disney movie? Those are safe enough; at least they always have a happy ending. Not a 'princess' movie, I want something deeper. Got it! Hunchback of Notre dame. The powerful, beautiful, noble Paris, full of culture and life and sound. The bells, chiming, ringing, the living city of passion and intrigue… I just watched the movie a couple of weeks ago, so I think I've got a general layout…"_ The room echoed with the tapping of fingers on keys as Claire continued her meditations, waiting for Brian to finish.

"Alright, everything's set. You ready to start?"

Claire nodded & winked at Brian before lying down, smiling as the casing began to lower over her, with the quiet hum of the machine lulling her gently back into sleep as the gel enveloped her.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

The first thing she saw was light – a bright light, piercing, as if she had shambled out from the darkest recesses of a cave into the sun itself. Claire squinted and covered her eyes with her hand, waiting for them to dilate enough so she could figure out where she was. What she saw left her speechless.

The setting was the middle of a marketplace. She heard the various vendors vilifying the others' high prices echoing all around her, saw the simple tents decorating the stalls, smelled the fresh bread – and the not-so-fresh smells of the people around her. Giggling madly to herself, she tapped her foot on the cobblestone street, feeling the texture of the ground against her bare foot. Delighted, she did a quick little jig and hopped into the air to clap her heels together. "It's marvelous! So real – and they speak English! Interesting. I can't wait to tell Brian how-"

"Hey! You! Get out of the market; we have no place for dancing beggars. You want to dance? Go wallow with the gypsy vermin." A gruff-looking, mustached man with leather armor and a small sword sauntered over and shoved Claire to the side, guffawing as she fell on her hands and knees.

_Ouch… this definitely feels real._ Not one to be ridiculed so readily, particularly by her own mind, Claire dusted herself off and was about to retort when her eyes fell on his sword, and her situation. She looked down and noticed her clothing, a simple white blouse with a blue sash tied 'round as a make-shift belt, a pair of loose black trousers, and a distinct lack of weaponry. _Good enough to run away in, at the very least._ Bowing low and keeping eye contact with the man, clearly some sort of guard or soldier, she stated, "Just as well – I was just thinking how I'd prefer their company to yours. Good day, serrah!" Before he could finish processing the insult, Claire disappeared in an incoming crowd of shoppers and hurried around the corner.

The streets were filled with people hustling about in their business, but not without some of them casting a wary stares at Claire as she walked. Used to the occasional staring, she ignored their gawking and smiled at people who looked her way. A little boy started running nearby but was yanked back by his mother. "Stay away, Marcus! She looks like one of those gypsies; she'll kidnap you, or worse!" The woman then gasped as Claire stuck her tongue out, wiggled her fingers and smiled at the boy, and continued on her way.

"Hmm, I suppose I should find something to do – this wandering around is interesting enough, but something should be happening by now." As if on cue, she heard the happy whistling of a flute and what sounded like bells beating rhythmically to the flute's melody. Following the sound led her to a street corner holding a pair of dark-skinned performers with a small, white goat.

The man had a stout belly poking out of his worn green shirt, but his nimble fingers danced over the flute, his foot tapping out a beat as the notes flowed out, caressing whatever audience would receive the song. As for his companion… Claire felt her heart skip a beat. _La Esmeralda… Disney, you named her well._ The woman's feet floated over the ground in a merry dance, causing her skirt to swish back and forth as her hips swayed perfectly to the jingle of her tambourine. _What a beautiful woman._ The lithe movements in her dance allowed her clothes to hug her body with each twist, and though she was thin her curves gave her a fuller look. Ebony hair flipped and swished, catching the light of the sun as her emerald eyes sparkled in delight and all that radiated from her was pure, raw _freedom_.

Claire watched their routine for a bit, noting how the people passed and shot similar glances of trepidation and, with some, repugnance that they had bestowed on her. A wry grin flashed across her face and she knew she had to be a part of the performance. When she stepped forward her hands started to move of their own accord; she began to "conduct" the music with flamboyant movements in standard 4/4 beat. Her knees lifted in a simple stomping dance next to the goat to match her wild conducting, looking up at the gypsy pair and laughing as they hesitated briefly, studying her. A few seconds passed before they grinned and then started playing again with renewed fervor. With Claire's active participation in the "audience," more people looked their way and some dropped coins in a little hat near the goat. Claire was about to pull other people around her to join in when she heard a sharp whistle and looked up to see a small boy motioning for them to hurry.

"Quick, this way!" The man gesticulated at Esmeralda and, as an afterthought, Claire, while rushing down an alley in the meantime. Claire was about to run after him when she saw Esmeralda kneeling with the goat to pick up the hat of coins, and turned back to help her pick them up and before they made a break for it.

"Alright gypsies, where'd ya get the money?" Claire recognized the man before them as the mustached fellow from the market earlier. He leered over the two as his companion, a more portly soldier with an equally unpleasant demeanor, shuffled over.

"For your information, we earned it." Claire watched the interaction between Esmeralda and the men warily, bracing herself for conflict. Esmeralda, to her credit, did not cower before them, instead lifting her head and shooting daggers at them with her eyes.

"Gypsies don't earn money."

"You steal it!"

With an idea of where this was headed, Claire decided to chip in. "You'd know a lot about stealing!" Esmeralda's attention switched to Claire, looking at her with a knowing glint in her eye. After nodding towards the soldiers, Claire got the hint and nodded back.

"Troublemakers! Maybe a day in the stocks will cool you both down and- oof!"

A quick kick in the head from Esmeralda shut up the 'leader' as Claire kneed the heavy one in the gut, causing him to double-over. As they ran off they heard the bleat of a goat down an alley, and Esmeralda took the lead 'til they reached the flutist and the boy.

"Stay here. I'm going to go back and make sure no-one was able to follow us, maybe pick up any coins that dropped." The man nodded at Esmeralda and handed her a tattered old shawl. She stooped over, letting the goat hop on her back, and then draped the shawl over their heads. They looked very much like an old man with a beard. "I'll meet you at the tents – take her with you, it'll be safer if I go alone." And with that, she was gone.

The older man looked Claire over and scratched his scraggly beard. "Ay, you have a name? I'm Jehan; the lad's name is Philippe."

Claire bowed as her hands mimicked the tipping of an imaginary hat. "The name's Claire. Where shall we go now, gents? That was a beautiful performance on the flute, by the way. I played the flute for a bit when I was younger, but had to give it up when I moved."

Jehan beamed at the compliment and gave her a quick pat on the back. "Well, if ya want to pick it up again, old Jehan can teach ya some tricks. I know what it's like to give everything up when you move. That's our life, after all, eh Philippe?" He mussed up Philippe's hair and chortled as the boy swatted his hand away.

"That was our life, but wit the King takin' care o' us things will turn up, eh?" He shot a toothy, hopeful grin at the older man.

"Wait, the King? Of France?" One eyebrow cocked up in confusion as Claire studied the two. Her curious stare turned into mock frustration as their snickers evolved into hearty laughter, pretending to hold onto each other so they wouldn't fall over. "Well, you're the ones talking about Kings and such. Nyah."

After regaining his breath, Jehan ushered her down a side street, Philippe in tow. "No, no, you'll meet our King later – he'll probably be at the tents, assuming he didn't try to sneak in a puppet show before the Festival; which I'm sure he did, the man is obsessed. But he's good to us, best we've had in a long time."

"Puppet show, eh? Wait, so he's a performer like you?" After putting two and two together, Claire face-palmed. "Ah, he's the King of Gypsies, then." With Jehan's affirmation, Claire continued. "Well, how lucky for me to meet a King on my first 'day' here."

Philippe, who had been kicking rocks while they walked, looked up at her quizzically. "Your first day 'ere? Where ya from, lady?"

_Damn! Figures my mind would catch something like that._ "Ah, good question. It's a long story, I'm sure it'd just bore you."

Out of the corner of Claire's eye, Jehan's face transformed slightly. The smile from before was frozen on his face but didn't meet nor match his guarded gaze. "Well, we've got a few minutes 'til we get to the tents. Might as well entertain us with a story, no?"

The pointedness of the question was not lost on Claire. Sighing, she nodded. "Fair enough – since you're trusting me, I should trust you. Now, where to begin…" _Ok, what's believable? You're a strange-looking woman traveling alone in Paris. You have simple clothes, a buzzed hairstyle, and probably don't act like commoners. Wait, this is a dream – can I lie to myself? Hmm, I think I would know if I was lying… this is confusing. I'll have to remember to tell Brian about this. _"I was born in another country. My mother raised my brother and me by herself until she married. But the man she married was a soldier, and a cruel man. By the time my mother found out his true nature, it was too late – she'd had more children, little ones they were. The man was especially cruel to me, and did terrible things."

This was a bit more than she intended to discuss, least of all with people that were no more than representations of her own subconscious. _Am I 'supposed' to have this conversation with myself? I haven't thought about my family in over 3 years now… Brian might want to hear about latent memories surfacing in dreams. _The rest was told in a softer voice, almost a whisper. "When I was old enough, I left my family. My little brothers and sister, my mom… I've been on my own ever since."

It wasn't until she felt the warmth of an embrace that Claire realized her eyes were closed, and opened them to see Jehan and Philippe stepping away after giving awkward pats on the shoulder. She touched her cheek and her eyes widened from the glistening moisture shining on her fingertips. _Did I just make myself cry?_ "I'm… sorry. I didn't mean to –"

"Hush, it's nothing to be sorry about." Jehan's face melted back to normal jolly as he flashed a reassuring smile as they stepped out of the alley and into the light. "Ah, here we are! Looks like they finished setting up for the festival, so you can wander around a bit before the festival. But first, let's take you to meet the King, and he can help us find out where you belong in our little troop."

"Jehan, you know how I feel about people calling me King." Just above them on a pole hung a lean, muscular man wearing patterns of purple and yellow cloth adorned with jingling bells. His mask, also purple, covered most of his face. All that was revealed was his mouth, which was turned up in a cheeky grin, and his eyes, which were dark obsidian and glittered with mischief. The man flipped off the pole and landed gracefully. He bent slightly and threw out jazz-hands as if he were going to say, "ta da!"

"If anything, the proper way to address me is His High Majesty, Gypsy King and Lord of Merriment, Clopin Trouillefou."


End file.
